


Dealing

by GinnyLily



Series: Dealing (A Dean Winchester Fanfiction) [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Canon-Typical Alcoholism, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Demon Cure, Demon Deals, F/M, Going to Hell, Hell, Hurt/Comfort, Language, Major Character Injury, Sam Is a Good Friend, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-06-07 04:13:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6784705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GinnyLily/pseuds/GinnyLily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A decision of the past separates the reader and the Winchesters. Will they find their way back together? And will Dean ever be able to forgive her?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fear

**Author's Note:**

> My first chaptered fanfiction in a very long time. It's inspired by an anon request. I'm actually really proud of myself for finishing it. (Yes it's finished, you don't have to worry about it being abandoned!) I will probably upload two chapters a week. Please if you enjoy it, share it, that would mean the world to me.

She drops the burning match. A muffled scream, followed by Sam's exhausted sounding voice comes from her phone. “He's gone.”

“Oh thank god, finally!” It's been the fifth body in total and the third one they've burned that night. “Dean!” she calls to the dark figure, who is standing knee-deep in another grave. “We got him!”

Dean immediately drops the shovel and climbs out of the grave. “Great! Tell Sam we'll meet him at the motel.”

–

They don't talk during the drive back. She can barely hold her eyes open and Dean has turned up the radio so he won't fall asleep while driving. It has been a long night.

Her head is leaning against the cold glass of the window. Usually she sits in the backseat while the brothers share the front. She's been with them for four years now. Since they rescued her from the Rugaru and practically had to drag her away from her sister's dead body. The only thing she wanted back then was revenge. Revenge on the creature that destroyed her life again, after human failure destroyed it the first time.

She begged the boys to take her with them, to teach her how to hunt. They made it very clear that revenge is not the best way but that it is usually _the_ way. They told her it wouldn't be easy and that she might not get out alive, that she might not be able to lead a normal life ever again. She said she wouldn't be able to lead one anyway, not now after she's lost everything. So they took her with them, taught her everything and let her live in the Bunker with them. It didn't take long for her to choose her favorite brother.

Sam is great but Dean... Dean is different. Yes, he is inappropriate at times, he doesn't talk much about himself and he seems to be only interested in _that one thing_. But the better she got to know him, the more she liked him. He is a kind man. He has seen so much, done so much and yet he is still a truly good human. Finally, she had admitted her feelings to him and after hesitating only for seconds he told her he had feelings for her, too.

Since then they've been hunting together; the three of them. Life with the Winchesters is dangerous, maybe even more dangerous than with any other hunter. But they are good at what they're doing and they've saved her life more than once.

Her temple is getting cold at the touch of the window but her eyes keep falling shut. At first she doesn't hear the howling but when she hears it she instantly knows what it is. She hasn't forgotten, she always knew what day it would be. But she has never told the boys. Why make them worry? They can't do anything about it.

–

“Good job,” is the first thing Sam says when they walk into their room.

“Thanks,” she yawns. It's almost four o'clock in the morning, she is sweaty, exhausted and covered in dirt and she just wants to sleep. “Dean, will you be mad if I don't take a shower tonight? I'm not sure how long I can still stand upright.”

“Nah, it's fine. I just want to sleep. You okay?,” he then asks Sam.

“Just a few scratches, nothing serious. Can't believe it was really the teacher in the end.”

“I can,” she yawns again, already slipping under the covers. “I digged up his bones and let me tell you that coffin is a bitch to get into.”

–

She wakes way too early. Still tired she sits up and rubs her eyes. When she opens them she flinches and hits her head on the wall.

“What's wrong? (Y/N)? Everything alright?” She blinks. Dean is sitting at the end of the bed, looking at her with a worried expression.

“Hm...yeah. Everything okay.” _It's starting. Not long now._

“Sam's almost done showering but as you know his hair needs extra attention,” Dean jokes. “He should be out of there any minute, though, then you can go in and we can hit the road early.”

“Yeah. Sure. Let's go home...” she mumbles, not really paying attention.

“You sure you're okay, (Y/N)?”

“Yeah...”

–

She has to suppress a scream when the water turns to blood. She turns it off quickly and jumps out of the shower, still only half clean.

She tires to tell herself that the waitress is not a half-eaten zombie-corpse and that her burger isn't filled with maggots.

She asks Dean to turn up the volume, even though she can't stand the song. Anything is better than hearing the distant howling.

She panics when the blanket catches fire. “DEAN! Oh my god, Dean, FIRE!!”

“What?” He sounds sleepy when he opens his eyes to look at her. “What happened?”

“CAN'T YOU SEE?! THE BLANKET IS ON FIRE!! GET OUT OF THERE!!” She has already run to the bathroom, filled a bucket with water and ran back.

“What I can't- what the hell, (Y/N)?!” Dean jumps out of bed, soaking wet, staring at her with a mixture of confusion and anger.

“Can you please scream outside?” Sam mumbles, pressing his head into his pillow. “I want to sleep.”

“B-but the blanket...” she stumbles. There is no fire. The blanket isn't burned. No ashes. No smell of smoke. “I-it was b-burning, just a second ago...” When she realizes what has happened, she sinks to her knees, covering her face with her hands.

“(Y/N)?,” Dean asks worriedly and carefully sits down next to her, putting a hand onto her shoulder. “What happened? Did you have a nightmare?”

She shakes her head. She might as well say it now, it is too late anyway. She can hear a deep howl, closer this time.

“No. It is...a hallucination.”

“A hallucination? Why would you have hallucinations?” Sam has lifted his head and slowly sits up now.

Her eyes start burning and she can feel tears building in them.

“I told you how I lost my parents, right?”

“Yeah, they died in a car crash,” Dean says, frowning.

“My sister was in that crash, too. My parents were dead immediately but my sister...she was in a coma. There was a young woman there, at the hospital. She said, she could help. You...you've got to understand; my sister was the only one I had left! I had to do this!” Tears are streaming down her face when she looks at Dean, who seems to slowly comprehend what she has said.

“So I made a deal. To save my sister's life. I could spend six wonderful years with her before that Rugaru took her. And now there's something coming to take me.” Her voice is only a whisper. Dean looks so shocked, so hurt, when he takes her into his arms, pressing her to his chest as if that alone could prevent the hellhounds from getting to her.

“When?,” he asks, his voice breaking.

“Tomorrow.”

“No.” Dean shakes his head. He lets go of her. “No. There is still time.” He jumps to his feet.

“Dean, what are you doing?”

“Looking for my phone. Ah, there we go.” Dean grabs his phone and punches three numbers into the device. “Crowley!” he bellows after a few seconds. “You come here, right now! We need to discuss something!”

–

“That will never work.” Sam has gotten up now and sits next to her on the bed. She is still shaking but she has stopped crying. The hellhound is howling in the distance. “Dean, Crowley won't just give up her soul!”

“Then we will make a deal! One thing I swear: I'm not letting you go to Hell!”

In that moment there is a loud knock at the door. Dean rushes over and opens it for a short man in his fifties. The man is wearing a black suit and his slowly graying hair is damp from the rain outside.

“Hello, boys. Oh and the lady.”

“Crowley. You need to stop this.”

“Stop what?” Crowley asks, wandering over to the table to take a seat.

“You know damn well what I'm talking about!” Dean growls. “She has sold her soul and you're supposed to spare her!”

“Am I?”

“Yes, you are!”

“Hm...interesting. Doesn't say that on my contract.”

“Oh go to hell with your contracts!”

“Actually, that's where I came from. Did you call me to take her with me personally then?”

“Crowley, please. It's just one soul. One tiny little soul,” Sam says. “Can't you do something _?”_

“Even if I could -”

“Oh you can. Just call off you damn hellhounds!”

“Dean, Dean, Dean. Always so _angry_. Anyway, Moose, even if I could, why would I do this? What's in for me?”

“I'll make a deal!” Dean immediately says.

“Oh no, not a chance. Not making any deals with you Winchesters. You always find a way to come back from the dead, I'm not taking any chances here. No. The girl's soul is sold; period.” And with a snap of his fingers, Crowley is gone.

“This stupid SONOFABITCH!!” Dean shouts, knocking Crowley's now empty chair over. “We should have trapped him, I _told_ you!”

“I just thought if we trap him he definitely wouldn't cooperate...”

“Oh shut up, Sam! We should have _forced_ him! We -”

“Dean. It's too late. It's over.”

“It's never over, (Y/N).” His voice softens as he looks at her. “I promise you, we'll get you out of this. I'm not letting you die. And I'm most certainly not letting you go to Hell. We'll find a way, I promise.”

“Dean, don't -”

“No. Listen, I will save you. You won't die.” He sits down next to her and takes her into his arms. “I'm not letting you die.”

–

They don't go back to bed. Sam sits down with his laptop and searches the lore, even though there isn't much hope. Dean is securing the motel room with salt and goofer dust, quietly cursing Crowley under his breath.

“We should get you back to the Bunker, you're safer there.”

She looks up, eyes sad and tired. She feels exhausted, drained, unable to say anything. She knows the hellhound will find her sooner or later. She has to go outside at one point and if it takes too long, the King of Hell will probably send a demon after her.

Dean keeps talking: “Crowley is such a bitch, he can't do that! He just can't! We're not just anyone, he knows us! Hell, we've worked together. I say we summon that sonofabitch, trap him and make him release her!”

“Dean,” says Sam, sounding pretty exhausted himself. “I don't think Crowley will just release her for nothing.”

“Well, then we give him what he wants. A soul, right? He can have mine!”

“Dean, he doesn't want yours, you heard him. He knows that the two of us won't stay dead for long.”

“Then we'll find him another soul!”

“DEAN!”

“Yes, sorry.” He puts the salt away and sits back down on the bed. “He won't get yours, I promise, baby.”

“Dean...” She is so tired. Maybe it's for the best if the hound just takes her. “Stop saying this. There is nothing you can do.”

“Oh damn well there is! (Y/N), I'll protect you, whatever the cost.”

–

They reach the Bunker shortly before midnight. The brothers escort her inside and to her room. Even though the Bunker is “probably the safest place on earth”, they cover her room in Devil's Traps and salt. Sam also unearths an old hex bag from a dusty box in his own room and Dean promises not to let her out of his sight.

It is sometime after two o'clock that they all go to bed. She doesn't sleep well. Nightmares haunt her for hours, every time she wakes up feeling a little more exhausted. She tries everything. Sleeping with the lights on; sleeping with the lights off. Sleeping with a blanket; sleeping without a blanket. Sleeping on her stomach, her side and on the floor. Nothing helps. The nightmares always manage to creep in, getting more and more terrifying as time passes.

She only leaves her room to go to the bathroom. Sam and Dean spend countless hours each day in the library, trying desperately to find a way out and occasionally visiting her to tell her it will be alright. There isn't much to do for her besides reading and watching TV and she hates herself for not being able to help. Though she tries, asking the brothers to bring her some books, so she can do more research.

 


	2. Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 is here! There will be a total of 9 chapters and new ones will be posted every Wednesday and Sunday :)  
> This one is a little short but I hope you can still enjoy it, the next ones will be longer again.

A week has passed and apart from the ever-worsening nightmares and the occasional hallucinations nothing has happened. Crowley hasn't called, though he must be furious and he also hasn't sent any demons after her.

Dean enters her room with a tray full of food. His lips are curled into a smile but it doesn't reach his eyes.

“Hey, sweetheart, how are you doing?”

She doesn't respond. In the mirror she can see the bags underneath her tired eyes. She is pale, her hair greasy and dull.

“We won't let him get you, I promise.” Dean sits down next to her, strokes her arm gently.

“Dean...” Her voice is quiet and hoarse. She quickly drinks some water before she speaks again. “What do you plan? Keeping me inside this room until I'm old and gray?”

“No. Only till we figure something out. We're on it.”

She sighs and pushes the tray away. “I'm not hungry.”

“(Y/N), please! You need to eat something! It won't take us long, I-”

“Dean, stop promising me things. You can't do anything and you know it. You tried to find a way out after you made that deal _for a year_ and you didn't find anything! My death is inevitable, please just accept that!” Her voice has grown louder until she is almost shouting at him. Tears are burning in her tired eyes. “Please Dean,” she whispers, barely audible after her screaming, “please let me go.”

“Do you want to die?” Dean sounds hurt and hopeless. It breaks her heart.

Tears start streaming down her face when she replies: “No. Dean, I-” But she doesn't know how to continue. She doesn't want to die, not really. Especially not now, knowing where she will go. But seeing him getting more and more desperate every day is making her wish she could just end it. “I don't want to die. But I know that I have to.”

“You don't have to! Listen, we'll find Crowley and we'll make him release you. It's not the first time we're making a deal with him.”

She shakes her head, tears still running down her cheeks. But she doesn't say anything and so eventually Dean leaves her alone with her thoughts.

–

“Good morning.” This time Sam enters the room, carrying some food and water for her. “How you're holding up?”

She shrugs. “I'm alright, I guess.” She doesn't mention the nightmares and her growing desire to just leave the Bunker and end it all.

“Really?” Sam pulls a chair up to her bed and sits down, carefully putting the food in between them. “Because you look awful.”

“Thanks, Sam.”

“Sorry, but it's true. You look like you haven't slept in days.” And after a moment of silence he adds: “Have you slept?”

She shrugs again, unwillingly biting into an apple.

“Listen, (Y/N)...I don't like this and Dean...well, he obviously doesn't either but...we have a case. We tried getting some other hunter to take it but we couldn't reach anyone. It's not gonna take too long, I hope -”

“It's fine, Sam. Don't worry. I can look after myself for a few days.”

“Are you sure?” He looks concerned.

“Yes. The Bunker's safe, isn't it?”

“Yeah...”

–

She is finally alone and able to leave her room for more than five minutes and without constant surveillance. Saying goodbye to the boys has felt weird, almost as if it's a finale goodbye. She could barely hold back the tears when the Impala left the garage and now she's on her own. Almost two weeks have passed since the day she was supposed to be killed and she knows that going outside is practically suicide. The boys have stocked the fridge and she has everything she needs. Still, it itches her to breathe some fresh air and to stretch her legs a little. What can happen if she takes the hex bag and a gun with her?

–

For four days she stays inside, slowly going insane. It is bad enough that she can't leave the Bunker but being alone, having nobody to talk to (except for the almost hourly calls from Dean) is making her mad. An hour ago Dean has called to tell her that they still have no lead on the monster and that they want to stay at least two more days trying to figure something out. That's when she has made her decision. There is no way around it, she knows, and when the boys are back they won't leave for a while. Which means that she will have to stay locked inside her room again. The thought makes her angry and desperate.

Now she is standing in front of the still-locked door, a gun in one hand, the hex bag in her pocket. _Now or never,_ she thinks and opens the door. Everything is quiet. It is mid-day, the sun is shining, the air is fresh, just a few fluffy clouds on the blue sky. She can hear birds and very distant car engines but no howling. She stands for a solid minute in the open door, heart pounding loud and fast. When nothing stirs she makes a hesitant step outside, then another. Still, nothing happens. She carefully leaves the Bunker and locks the door, slowly walking a few steps, always aware of her surroundings.

Her pulse is racing and her lungs take in the fresh air in anxious little sips. No movements, no howling, no twigs breaking. Just the birds and a gentle breeze. She walks on. After five minutes she begins to feel safe, even thinks about extending her walk. Then she hears it. It is almost too distant to hear it. But it is there, she is sure of it. Then she hears a loud crack behind her and spinning around she screams in shock. A giant spider, at least the size of a small dog is sitting on the road in front of her. Slowly it moves its legs, creeping closer to her. She stumbles backwards, almost tripping over a – snake?! A giant one, a fat python. _Impossible!_

The howling becomes louder. The animals don't attack. “You-you're not real,” she mumbles, getting back to her feet and staring at the spider and the snake. “You're hallucinations.” She blinks – and they are gone. Hallucinations. That's what those things are. But the howling isn't. It sounds closer than a minute ago.

She turns around and starts running. She ignores the increasing smell of fire, the breaking twigs, the sound of footsteps behind her and the breath on her neck. She ignores that the path looks like it is becoming longer and longer the faster she runs. She ignores the hissing and the glowing eyes in the bushes. She just runs, heartbeat loud in her ears, eyes wide with fear. She runs faster than she has in her entire life. It has taken her five minutes to walk, how long will it take to run? But she doesn't get to find out.

The attack isn't a hallucination. Something hot and heavy jumps her from the side and throws her to the ground. She screams as sharp claws start to rip apart her clothes. _Where is the hex bag? More importantly, where is the gun?_ She finds it, grips it tightly and fires. A loud growl. Hot and stinking breath on her face. She closes her eyes, shoots again. The gun is swept from her hands.

She starts fighting, all of her limbs kicking and punching but she doesn't hit anything. Then comes the sharp pain as the monster slices open her chest. She gulps for air and opens her eyes again. Fear crashes down on her, adrenaline fuels her body. She screams and kicks and punches. Then another sharp slice. She winces. Something warm drips down her sides. She doesn't need to look to know what it is. _Please, help me!_ But nobody does. Another piercing pain, then it is over.

–

For a second she doesn't feel any pain. It almost feels like she is floating. Everything is dark, although her eyes are opened. Then she hears a silent huff and catches a glimpse of a lifeless body covered in blood, lying on a small road inside a forest.

When she wakes up, the pain is back. Worse than before. She screams. It's hot. And it hurts. Everything. A shadow comes into sight, growling. “Shut it, newbie. It's your own damn fault you're here, so quit whining.”

–

She doesn't know how long it takes. It feels like centuries. Like millenniums. The pain never goes away, it only increases in intensity. She quits screaming after a while. There is no use for this anyway.

At the beginning she cries a lot. Thinks about the life she has lost. Thinks about Dean and Sam and about her sister. And she hopes that the girl is in a better place then she is. But those thoughts eventually stop. Instead, she thinks about revenge and payback. Most of the time she doesn't think, though. Occasionally there are screams and sobs of new people but they all stop, just like she has.

And eventually even her thirst for revenge stops. Actually, all her emotions just fade. All but one: Hatred. She has never felt so much hatred.

And then it is over. She is released, instructed and working. This is a better way to release aggression than any punching bag. Only that her hatred and aggression grow with everything she does.

–

And then, finally! Finally she is allowed to leave. “Go get yourself a vessel, we have work to do.”

She finds a pretty young woman, way prettier than she has ever been herself. She doesn't care about the girl. She doesn't care about anybody. There is too much hatred. Her vessel dies within a week, when she gets shot but she doesn't care. Neither does she care about all the other humans that get in the way. The first time she looks into a mirror and sees her eyes flash black she feels something else, too. She feels powerful and content. Not happy, because happiness isn't an emotion she is ever going to feel again, but powerful and content. And angry. So unbelievably angry.

 


	3. Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People still liked the second chapter, so that's good. This one is a little longer again. Let me know if you liked it! Also a big thank you to my beta @readingravenclaw (on tumblr) ♥ Check her out, she's awesome!

Dean Winchester is a broken man. He had been ever since that day two and a half years ago when his girlfriend hadn't answered his calls and Sam and he had rushed back, just to find the Bunker empty. Not even a note. Half an hour later they had found her dead body, ripped to shreds, not too far away from the Bunker. He had cried and screamed and tried everything. He had called Crowley. He had begged and threatened and cursed. But nothing has helped. She is gone.

Eventually the anger has been replaced by guilt and then thoughts of revenge. Bloody, violent revenge. He has killed more demons than he can count, more than once attempting to murder Crowley.

He hasn't kept his promise to her and there is no way of getting her back. He has tried to sell his soul, to send Cas after her, even to walk straight into Hell and get her out himself. He is sure that even if he could get her back, she wouldn't want him anymore. He has _abandoned_ her, broken his promise. It is his fault that she is dead, no matter what Sam says.

Now Dean is sitting in his car, a grim expression on his face, angel blade in hand. Ready to stab the first demon that comes into sight. Sam is eating a burger. Dean hasn't eaten a lot in the last few days. Actually, he hasn't eaten much in the past two and a half years. Only enough to keep him alive, keep him going, although sometimes he doesn't want to anymore. But Sam is there and Sam forces him to eat, to hunt, to live. And he will never abandon his little brother. Having done that to one person he loves is enough.

“You finished?” he asks impatiently without taking his eyes off of the building in front of them.

Sam crumples up the paper in his hands and throws it onto the backseat. Dean doesn't even notice. “Let's go.”

–

She hears the noises of a fight in the hallway.

“Alright, handsome. Either you tell me what I want to know or we'll see how sharp this pretty little knife really is.” She needs to act fast. Someone is coming and there isn't much time. She needs the information, then she will kill the guy and get out of here.

“I'll tell you nothing,” the man in front of her spits. He is struggling against the rope chaining him to the chair. “I'd rather die -”

“Be careful what you wish for.” She is annoyed. Annoyed and in a hurry. Those people upstairs are probably hunters. And hunters are the last thing she needs right now.

“Hello? Anybody there?” The voice sounds familiar.

“Yeah, I'm he-” Knife. Chest. The man spits blood, choking and coughing.

“Ew, not onto me!” She pulls the knife back and watches him twitch once more before he grows still and limp.

The voices get louder and she can hear heavy footsteps. “Hello?”

She wants to leave, but stops when she sees the man entering the room. He is tall with long brown hair, a plaid shirt and a knife in his right hand. _Sam_.

“Oh look who we've got there.” He quickly reaches into his pocket and sprays her with holy water. She screams as the water burns her skin. But she still can't move. Something in her has flipped. Suddenly there is more, not just the anger and hatred. She feels something else, too, though she can't identify the feeling right away.

Sam raises the knife and walks closer to her, ready to stab her immediately.

“No – please!” Her voice is barely a whisper. There is something warm.

“No? Why not? Why shouldn't I kill you, _demon?”_

Before she has a chance to respond another man appears. He is shorter but, too, dressed in plaid, an angel blade in his hand. She freezes, unable to even blink. She just stares at the man and she feels something, actually _feels_ something. It is like a tiny little flame insider her chest, making her feel warm and fuzzy. “Dean.” Her meatsuit's eyes start watering.

“Hello-ho!” Sam clicks his fingers in front of her face. “Give me a good reason why I shouldn't kill you. Knowing Dean's name isn't one.”

She blinks a few times and looks up at Sam. She just now realizes that she is completely defenseless, standing in a corner, knife a few feet away on the floor.

“I-I...Sam...it's....it's _me!_ ”

“And who the hell is that s'posed to be, _'me'_?” She flinches at the disgust in Dean's voice. He looks horrible. Pale and worn and skinnier than she remembers him. Dark circles under his eyes indicate the lack of sleep. His hair is still short but the beard is new. His clothes are way too big for him, which makes him look like a tramp.

She clears her throat. “Me. (Y/N).”

Dean's expression changes from disgust to hope to anger to pain. “No,” he says simply. And then: “Kill her, Sam.” He turns away and starts climbing the stairs back up.

“NO, wait, please! It's really me, I swear!” The desperation in her voice is audible. After months back on earth she finally feels something. Something she hasn't felt in a long time. Love.

Sam gives her a strange look. “This is probably the worst thing you could have said. He's not over her and you know that. Of course you do.”

“No, Sam – Sammy, please. I swear, it's me! Don't kill me! Please! I'll...I'll prove it!” She has sunk to her knees, pleading for her life. A day ago, hell, ten minutes ago she'd been ready to kill anyone getting into her way. She was ready to fight the hunters and cut their throats if she hadn't managed to run away. And now she is kneeling on the floor, in front of a hunter, begging for mercy, begging him to spare her, to _believe_ her.

Sam squints, knife still pointed at her. “How do you want to prove that?”

“I...I don't know. Just...please. Put me in a Devil's Trap, cuff me, throw me into your dungeon but please, _please_ don't kill me.”

“SAM! What's taking you so long?”

“Just a moment!” Sam yells back without looking away from her.

“Why should I believe you?”

“Because...” She swallows hard. She doesn't know. There is no way for her to prove it. She doesn't have anything to identify her, she is wearing a different meatsuit – realizing that she is actually _wearing_ a person makes her feel sick to her stomach – there is nothing she can do.

“Because I...I know things,” she finally says.

“You know things.”

She swallows again. “Yes.”

“Things like what?”

“You-you're Sam and Dean Winchester. You are hunters. Dean drives a black '67 Chevrolet Impala that he calls 'Baby'. You live in Lebanon, Kansas in the Men of Letters Bunker. Two and a half years ago Dean's girlfriend (Y/N) was, _I_ was killed by a hellhound because her, _my_ time's been up. I have made a deal with a crossroads demon to save my little sister's life and after ten years they had taken my soul. They took me to Hell, Sam, tortured me, made me into...into _this!_ ” She feels the tears running down her face now but she doesn't dare to reach up to wipe them away. “Please, Sam, you gotta believe me.”

“Sam?! How long does it take you to kill a demon? What happened? Do I need to come down?”

“Just a minute, Dean!” Then he turns his attention towards her again. “These are things everyone could know. It's easy to find out. Crowley knows all of this. It's no proof that you're actually her. Because (Y/N) would...she would never have done this.” He gestures to the dead body on the chair.

“I...Sam, they brainwashed me! I was _tortured!_ For years, for decades! You and Dean have both been in Hell, you of all should know what they do to you! Please just...give me one chance.”

“I don't see why I should.”

“Because...because it is really me and you now have the chance to get me back. If you kill me, I'm dead for good and this time it will be your fault.”

Sam shakes his head. “You know, every instinct tells me to stab you here and now. But you do have a point...”

She doesn't dare to get her hopes up.

“Dean won't be happy, you know. Why did you leave the Bunker back then?”

Embarrassed she lowers her head. “I needed some fresh air and I knew that they would get me sooner or later. I didn't want to make this any worse and I didn't want to be locked up for the rest of my life, either... I don't know if it was the right decision but I can't change it.”

Sam looks at her, deep in thought. She doesn't know why she is still here, why she doesn't attack him and run. It must have been that warmth in her chest, that is slowly spreading to the rest of her body, and the memories of her time with the brothers, which are evoked by that.

“Alright,” he finally says. “I give you a chance. _One_ chance. But trust me, if you're lying then you'll wish I had killed you.”

Relieved she smiles and slowly gets up. Sam walks up behind her and gently pushes the knife against her back. “You will move very slowly and very carefully. Go upstairs and to the car, I'm right behind you. One false move and you're dead, understood?”

She nods. “Understood.”

“Dean, we're coming up!”

“We?!”

“Yes, I'm bringing her.”

“Why didn't you kill her?!”

They slowly walk upstairs and meet an angry and confused Dean at the door. “What's wrong, Sam? Why isn't she dead?”

“Because she says that she's _her_ and I want to give her a chance.”

Dean's expression darkens. “You want to give her a chance?! Are you kidding me?! This isn't her, this could never be her! Have you seen what she's done?! (Y/N) would never do that!”

She flinches as Dean repeats what Sam has said earlier. “Please Dean, I -”

Dean spins around, facing her. “YOU!” he spits. “Don't you _dare_ talk to me! I don't know what you're planning but one thing I know for sure. You. Are. Not. Her.” With these words he turns around and quickly walks to the car.

–

It is a weird feeling to sit in the Impala again. Sam has finally convinced Dean and they've handcuffed her and put her in the backseat. “She can't smoke out with those cuffs on and she's basically powerless. Not even Crowley can do anything wearing them.”

They drive in silence, Dean doesn't even put music on. She remembers the last time they've been together like this in the car. Back then she has had visions and has been chased by hellhounds. Now she is a demon, angry and dangerous. Suddenly she is disgusted by herself and tries to think of something else but it is hard.

Back in the Bunker they immediately lock her in the dungeon, turn off the lights and leave her alone. She doesn't know how long she is there but she can her the brothers arguing somewhere outside the doors of her prison. Finally the conversation becomes quiet and after a while Sam enters the dungeon with a glass of water for her.

“Dean is not happy,” he explains. “But he will hear you out. If you actually have something to say.”

She's had a lot of time to think about what she's going to tell them and she has come up with a plan. It isn't a good plan but it is her only chance to save her life, so she has decided to stick with it.

“Thank you, Sam.” She attempts a smile but it turns out pretty wonky and Sam ignores it anyway.

 


	4. Proof

“I hope you're worth my time.” Dean walks in, face grim, lips pressed together, looking at her like she is the most disgusting thing he has ever seen, which, and she doesn't like that thought, is probably exactly how he feels about her. He pulls up a chair and sits down in front of her, not looking in her eyes but at a point slightly above her head. “Talk!” he commands.

She takes a sip of the water Sam has brought her – it's not easy with the cuffs still around her wrists, but she manages – and starts the speech that will hopefully save her life.

“I can't prove that I am really (Y/N). I don't have anything on me that would prove it and as you can see I have acquired a new body.”

Dean lets out a silent huff and shakes his head a little.

“Anyway,” she continues trying to meet one of the brothers' eyes, but they aren't looking at her. “I only have her – my memories.”

“Which you could easily have gotten out of her while you were torturing her in Hell,” Dean snaps, still not looking at her.

She lowers her head and looks towards the floor, towards the Devil's Trap that keeps her from moving. “Yeah, I know. Point is, my memories are the only thing I have left and if that's not enough to prove that I am her, then you will most likely have to execute me.” She chooses the word 'execute' on purpose, hoping it will have at least some kind of effect on the brothers. It did indeed, Sam cringes and Dean furrows his brow, just for a second. That is it, though, and she decides to carry on.

“I will tell you everything you want to know, from my childhood to my death.” As neither of the brothers says a word she continues.

“My name is (Y/N) and I lost my parents thirteen years ago in a terrible car crash. They died immediately. My little sister was in the crash as well but she survived, however, she was in a coma. At the time of the crash was at a friend's house. I wasn't notified right away and when I was, I was not allowed to go and see my sister. My friend's parents still took me to the hospital and we waited there. After several hours I was allowed to see my sister but only for a few minutes. I talked to her while she was sleeping, those big scary machines around her bed, beeping wildly. The nurses had to practically drag me out of the room and a doctor explained to me that it was unlikely that my sister would ever wake up again.

I asked to be left alone for a while and went to the almost empty cafeteria. I sat there for God-knows-how-long until a young woman – she couldn't have been older than twenty – sat down next to me.

_'Hey, how are you doing?'_ she asked. I told her about the crash, my parents, my sister and that she would most likely never wake up and she said, she could help me. I didn't believe her at first, how would she be able to help? She said, she had some special abilities and although she wouldn't be able to bring my parents back, she could help my sister and ensure that she would wake up soon. I asked her what she wanted in return since I didn't have a lot of money. But she said she didn't want anything right away, she would come back in ten years and ask me for a favor.

For an eighteen-year-old ten years is a long time and since my sister was the only one I had left, I agreed. Two hours later my sister woke up and after four days she was discharged from the hospital, completely healed and healthy. I almost forgot about the woman and her 'favor' during the next few years.

Six years passed and we had a good life. I had a job that helped us get by, and my sister and I had a good relationship. But then came the disappearances, just about a month after my sister's graduation and the police found more and more dead bodies. They had a few suspects but that was all. When I came home one night after a long day of work I found the front door open and I heard muffled screams from the living room. I grabbed an umbrella, ready to hit the intruder and ran into the living room.

There I saw the worst thing I have seen in my entire life. Even after hunting with you guys for so long, even after Hell, it is still the worst thing. I saw a man hunched over my sister's struggling body. And he was _eating. her. flesh_. I couldn't do anything. I couldn't move, couldn't scream, just stood there and watched in horror as my sister's limbs stopped moving and -”

But the rest of her sentence is drowned by a loud sob. For a second she is confused as to where that noise has come from, when she suddenly feels the tears on her own cheeks. She is so surprised by this sudden outburst of emotion that she just stares at the floor for a few seconds. She can't remember the last time she has cried. For sure it has been before she was turned into a demon. The only emotions she has felt during the last months are rage, anger and hatred.

But now her chest is tight with sobs, with warmth, with loss and sorrow and love. A tissue suddenly appears in front of her and she takes it and absently wipes the tears away. Then she continues, still looking at the floor, not because she is overrun by emotions but rather because she is startled that she does _have_ emotions.

“I heard someone coming behind me and that was probably what snapped me out of it. I started screaming and hit the man over the head with the umbrella. He turned around, blood all over his face and then I was pushed away and two men I had never seen before came in, one carrying a gas can. Without a fuss, without explaining they rushed towards the man, tackled him to the ground and _set him on fire_. Then one of them got my sister's lifeless body from the floor while the other one grabbed me by the hand and shouted at me to get out of there.

I don't have any memory of actually leaving the house. I just know that ten minutes later I was sitting at the sidewalk, my sister was dead and my house was in flames. The men introduced themselves as Sam and Dean Winchester and explained everything to me. I only understood about half of it but what I did understand was that there are more creatures like the one who had taken my sister and that these two men – you – are hunting them down.

I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't been there that day but I guess the Rugaru would've probably killed me, too. I begged you to take me with you. I had nothing left, no family, no possessions, nothing. We had an argument but in the end you took me with you and you taught me how to hunt.”

At this point she pauses and takes another sip of the water Sam has brought her. The brothers are silent, their expressions undecipherable. She puts the glass back on the table and resumes her story.

“I'd been with you for four years before I was killed. It didn't take me long to pick a favorite brother – sorry, Sam.” He smiles weakly but doesn't say anything.

“Dean,” she is now addressing her ex-boyfriend directly. “I told you that I had – have – feelings for you about eight months after you took me in. We were grocery shopping after we'd returned from a successful hunt and I made my confession in the parking lot. We kissed in the candy aisle and again after dinner. Sam's comment on our relationship was _'Finally!'_. From that day on no one had to sleep on the couch at hunts. We lived happily for quite a while.

Then came the day the hallucinations started. Though I didn't know what the demon's _'favor'_ was when I made the deal, I had obviously learned that while hunting with you. I dreaded the day I had to tell you and I tried to hide everything I saw. But one morning I woke up and our blanket was on fire. I put the 'fire' out with a bucket of water and realized too late that the fire was just a hallucination. I confessed everything to you. Then you called Crowley and tried to get me out of my deal. When he refused, you took me back to the Bunker and locked me in my room...”

She tells them everything that had happened, how she had felt and how she'd finally left the Bunker. “I must have lost the hex bag and the hellhound found me and attacked me... I don't have a real memory of what happened afterwards. I woke up in Hell and was tortured for decades. Gradually the pain numbed my feelings. My memories became a blur and the only emotions I felt were hatred and anger. I wanted revenge on the people who did this to me.

When they finally released me, I had to work in Hell for a while before I was allowed to go back to earth and find myself a vessel. I did...” She swallows and, not wanting to look at either of them, closes her eyes. “I did horrible things. Punished people. Tortured people. Killed people. All to get the information Crowley wanted.” All of a sudden she feels ashamed. She keeps her eyes closed, though she can feel tears rolling down her flushed up cheeks again.

“Why didn't you run away or smoke out or at least fight when we found you earlier?” Sam asks quietly. “We killed all of your little friends, at least the ones that weren't fast enough. But when I came down those stairs you just stood there, staring at me.”

She opens her eyes again and wipes the tears from her cheeks. They are immediately replaced by new ones. “I don't know. When I saw you, it triggered something in me. In all those months as a demon I didn't really think about either of you. But when I saw you,” she gives Sam a weak smile, “I remembered. It was as if a switch had been flipped inside of me. And I...” She hesitates for a second. When she continues her voice is quiet and shaking. “I suddenly _felt_ something. Actually  felt something other than aggression. And when Dean came down...” She shakes her head, unable to express what she had felt.

“You do realize of course that this story could easily be made-up, right?” Dean's face is merciless. He looks so hurt and betrayed and doubtful, it breaks her heart.

“I know. I know it sounds like I got the facts from her and that I am just telling you this to survive. But there isn't anything else I can do to make you believe that I am really (Y/N).”

“Sam?” Dean turns to his brother. “What do you think about that?”

Sam stares her in the eye. It almost feels like he is trying to read her mind. “I don't know what to make of it. But I think we shouldn't decide what we're going to do now. She is safe in here and she can't get out. Let's sleep on it and talk in the morning.”

She gives Sam an honest smile, relieved that he is at least not entirely against her. But he doesn't smile back, just stares at her and then he and Dean leave the dungeon, turning the lights off and leaving her to her thoughts once more.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! If you did, let me know :)


	5. Mercy

It is the longest night of her life. Any minute one of the brothers could come in and announce her death. Then again that would be cruel, killing her defenseless as she is. But she has to admit that she is a monster, a demon, and that she would probably kill herself, too, if she were in the Winchesters' position. Still, the thought of the love of her life and his brother, her best friend, sentencing her to death...

She should have never made that deal. She regretted it the instant she learned what the forfeit was. It didn't even protect her sister; they didn't have the promised ten years together. If she had never made that deal, she wonders, would she still have met the Winchesters? Would her sister have woken up eventually and still been killed by the Rugaru? Or would her sister still be in a coma and would it then have been her that was taken by the monster? One thing she knows for sure: She would have never left if her sister had still been alive.

_Where do demons go when they die?_ she wonders. _Back to Hell? Or to Heaven? Or do they just vanish and go nowhere?_

The more time passes the more certain she is that she is going to be killed. She doesn't hear the brothers arguing, that must mean that they have already agreed on something and will come down to stab her with an angel blade in the morning.  _Maybe I deserve this. After all, I have done horrible things. I have hurt people, killed people. I am a demon. And it is my own fault..._ Still, she doesn't want to die. But now that she has her emotions back, she doesn't want to live either. She will never be able to forgive herself for what she's done.

She has seen a lot of people die in the past months. She has also seen a lot of demons die. They were always screaming. She wonders whether it hurts. She has no real recollection of her death but she is pretty sure that being ripped apart by a hellhound  _did_ hurt.  _Funny_ , she thinks,  _one should think I would be immune to pain by now. But I'm not. Not even Hell and all of its torture can make you immune to pain._ Especially not to the kind of pain she feels when she thinks about Dean. 

She loves him, she really does. She has never told him that. They thought they had time. But she knew, she  _knew_ she was going to die; why did she never tell him? She remembers a quote from one of her favorite songs:  _“You don't know what you've got until it's gone.”_ Yeah, that must be it. She had loved Dean but she hadn't known how much. Seeing him broken like this, knowing that it is her fault, makes her heart ache. 

_Even if he does believe me, will he still kill me?_ She has done this to him. By lying. By leaving. By dying. By becoming a monster. Even if he does believe her, why should he spare her? She has broken his heart, she has destroyed him, she has disappointed him. She should have fought more, should have resisted, should have never given in.  _What happens to people who are tortured for centuries and don't give in? Are they tortured for all eternity or are they free to go?_ Surely Crowley's goal, Hell's goal, is to make more demons. What if someone is unbreakable?

Her thoughts trail off but eventually come back to Dean. She has no idea how much time has passed since the brothers have left her to her alone. She tries to remember Dean's expression during her story but it is impossible. He won't believe her, she has no real proof. For a second she thinks about trying to escape but she knows it is useless. The Bunker is absolutely demon-proof and the boys are amazing hunters, they would capture her in under a minute and then they would certainly kill her. Her best chance is to stay put and await her fate, though she doesn't believe they will absolve her.

–

The door opens and she has to shut her eyes at the bright light that suddenly fills the room. When she slowly blinks she can make out two large figures standing in front of her. Dean leans against the wall, arms crossed, face grim. Sam stands near her, almost inside the Devil's Trap, hiding something behind his back.  _Probably the angel blade..._

Sam clears his throat. “We have come to an agreement.”

Dean looks like it is less of a mutual agreement and more of a convincement on Sam's part.

“We decided that we will not kill you.” She looks up at the younger hunter, completely baffled. Not kill her? “We believe you, (Y/N).” There is a soft smile on Sam's face. “However, we will only accept you back home under two conditions.”

She nods eagerly. No matter what the conditions are, she will accept them.

“One: no more lies. And two,” he pauses for a second before he says: “We will cure you.”

“Cure me?” Her voice is husky since she hasn't talked for quite a while. “What do you mean, _'cure me'_? How's that supposed to work?”

Sam reveals what he has been hiding. It is a syringe filled with a thick, red substance – blood?

“One shot of purified blood every hour for eight hours. Then there's a special exorcism and the demon becomes human again.”

“And that really _works_?” she asks suspiciously. Or is that just a very weird method of killing her?

“Yes,” says Sam simply. “Do you agree to the conditions?”

She nods, looking at Dean. “What about you? Do you actually believe me or did Sam just convince you?” She is scared of the response but she needs to know.

Dean looks at her for a few seconds without saying a word. Then: “I believe you. But that doesn't change things.”

She doesn't understand what he could possible mean by that but she doesn't have time to ask because Sam steps forward and jabs the needle into her forearm. It feels like he has injected burning lava rather than blood into her veins. She tries hard not to scream, bites down on her lip so hard she tastes blood. She vaguely notices the brothers leaving while her entire body feels like it's on fire.  _This can't be a cure, this must be poison!_ But they wouldn't do that, not even to her.

It takes almost an hour until the pain is gone. She is still alive but she feels weak and feverish. Sam comes back, injects another dose of blood. Again her body feels like it's on fire and she thinks that may be the demon being burned out of her.

–

It's only Sam that visits her every hour, injecting more and more of the purified blood into her arm. She feels worse with every injection but she doesn't believe it's poison anymore. In the few minutes in which her body doesn't feel like it's on fire, she wonders why Dean doesn't show up. She tries to tell herself it's because he doesn't want to see her suffer but she knows it's something else.

–

The seventh injection leaves her only half-conscious, thirsty and sweating, her whole body aching. Her mind is slowly drifting off to sleep, when the door to the dungeon opens and Sam comes back with the last dose. Only that it isn't Sam. When she opens her eyes, Dean is standing in front of her, closer than ever before. He is holding the last syringe.

She glances up at him and her heart shatters when she sees his face. It's place with dark circles under his green eyes. He doesn't smile and he looks tired and worn.

“The last one,” he says quietly.

She simply nods, not sure how to respond.

“It's my blood, you know. I...I thought that might...help things.”

She slumps in her chair, eyes looking at the floor. He doesn't believe her. Or he doesn't want to. “Dean...” she says, but that's all she can think of. She is tired and desperate.

He moves closer, into the Devil's Trap and holds up the syringe. “Last chance to say no.”

“Do you want me to?”

He hesitates, then shakes his head. “No. 'course not.”

“Are you sure?” She looks into his eyes. They have lost all of their shine.

“Yes.” But it doesn't sound honest.

“One of the conditions is 'no more lies',” she reminds him.

He huffs. They are silent for a minute, then he holds up the syringe again. “Yes or no?”

She pauses, then nods. This time it hurts even more. She can't suppress the scream anymore, barely hears Dean chanting the exorcism. Then she feels his hand over her mouth. She can barely breathe. Is he trying to suffocate her? But then the hand is gone again and she is hit in the face with water.  _Holy water_ , she realizes; but it doesn't burn. She slowly opens her eyes. Dean is standing a few feet away from her, bottle with holy water still in his hand. Sam comes walking in.

“Did it work?”

Dean nods, face illegible.

Sam smiles and walks towards her, unchaining her from the chair. “Come here!”

She slowly stands up and walks out of the Devil's Trap as if it is just a drawing on the floor. She lets herself fall into Sam's embrace and closed her eyes. It feels good to be hugged, to feel another body again. She only realizes she's crying when she hears the quiet sobs.

“Welcome back, (Y/N),” Sam says happily and releases her, so she can go and hug Dean as well.

It's a weird hug and it makes her uncomfortable to be in his arms again. She feels guilty because she should be  _happy_ but she knows he isn't.

“I'm glad you're back, (Y/N), I really am,” Dean whispers over her shoulder. She doesn't believe him. Or maybe he really is happy but he can't express it, yet.

“Give him time,” Sam says when Dean releases her and leaves the two to _“make dinner, we should celebrate”_. “It isn't easy for him and he can't quite wrap his mind around it. That you're back, I mean.”

–

It's weird being human again. She moves back into her old room; it still looks exactly the same as when she left it. Even her clothes are still there. They are a little tight because her new body is a bit taller than her old one but she figures it's fine for now. She doesn't want to ask for money to buy new ones just yet and at least she's dressed and she can ditch the clothes her vessel wore when she possessed it. It's strange, she hasn't minded wearing those things as a demon, they have even been quite comfortable. But now the thought that these clothes have once belonged to the woman whose body she stole, whom she _killed_ , makes her feel sick. She changes quickly and puts the old clothes in the bin. Then Dean calls for dinner and she leaves the clothes behind and walks to the kitchen.

–

“Do you think Crowley will be mad?”

“Why? Because he has lost you? I doubt it.”

They are sitting in the library, having breakfast. She had gone to bed soon after they've finished dinner, having the first real sleep in over two years.

“Demons get killed and exorcised every day, usually Crowley doesn't mind. They're tools for him, servants, slaves, not actual employees.”

These words don't hurt, not like they should. She has known it all long. Crowley doesn't give a crap about any of his demons, as long as they work hard and cruel.

“Listen, we might have a case, probably a vengeful spirit, only two states over,” begins Sam. “We thought, we'd leave immediately after breakfast, so if you -”

“Oh, I'm sure (Y/N) would prefer staying here and resting for a while. She hasn't even had a full day to rest and it's a vast change after all.”

She is puzzled but when she meets Dean's eye she nods. “Yeah, I guess I'll stay here. Won't take you too long, and Dean's right, I'd prefer some rest...” This is an outright lie and both of the brothers know it. Still, no one says another word and half an hour later the boys are off in the Impala.

 


	6. Distrust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> check out my beta: readingravenclaw.tumblr.com

They are gone for a week. She isn't doing much, mainly stays indoors and reads. Sam calls her twice a day and Dean texts her every other day. When Sam calls to tell her they're heading back she takes one of the old cars from the garage and goes grocery shopping, cleans the Bunker and makes dinner. She evens bakes a pie for Dean.

The brothers get home by eight but much to her disappointment Dean excuses himself and heads straight to bed.

“He's tired,” Sam says as they're quietly eating in the kitchen. “It's been a long week and he drove all the way back here.”

She simply nods and continues to pick at her food. She's pretty sure that that's not the reason why Dean doesn't want to eat with them. She knows him and he would never miss food, no matter how tired he was.

–

The next morning she meets Dean in the kitchen, looking at the pie she has made for him.

“You can eat it, it's for you.”

He looks at her, frowning. “You baked pie? For _me_?”

“It's alright, you can eat it. It's not poisoned or anything.”

A weak smile appears on Dean's face. “I wouldn't put it past you.”

She flinches.

“Sorry! I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that! It was just a stupid joke.” He picks up a fork and starts eating.

She pours herself a bowl of cereal and is about to leave the kitchen when Dean calls her back.

“Thanks for the pie. It's awesome.”

“You're welcome,” she mumbles and turns again when he calls her a second time.

“(Y/N). Maybe we should talk.”

She shrugs and sits down at the table, Dean seats himself opposite to her and places the pie in front of him. They are quiet for a moment, Dean eating his pie, she staring at her cereal.

“I'm sorry,” he finally says.

She frowns. “For what?”

“Everything. I think, I owe you an apology. And an explanation.”

She looks up quickly, meets his eyes, then looks back at her breakfast.

He thinks for a moment, eats another piece of pie. “I haven't been on my best behavior, I know that. I have ignored you, stopped you from hunting with us and ditched you last night. I have distrusted you and overall I have been a terrible boyfriend.”

Her heart starts beating faster at the word 'boyfriend'. She still loves him and she wishes they could just go back to what they were before. But his behavior has led her to believe that he isn't interested in her anymore. That's why she chokes: _“Boyfriend?!”_

Dean blushes slightly, looking at a spot over her head.

“Yeah...(Y/N), listen. It's...hard for me. Back then, when you didn't answer your phone and we found your dead body in the woods...I felt betrayed and abandoned. I couldn't understand why you would leave the Bunker; that was almost like committing suicide! And not only that. You left me behind, without saying a word, without a note and I _knew_ you would become a demon. I've been to Hell, I know how it works.” Dean still doesn't look her in the eyes. He has stopped eating now.

“And I knew that we had to face you eventually. I wasn't prepared for you to be in a different body, though. I mean, yes, it's obvious that you couldn't get your old one back but I just didn't think about it.” He sighs. “Actually, I didn't think much. I don't know what Sam has told you but...we tried to get you back. I tried to make a deal, _seven times_. I must have called Crowley every hour for a month, trying to get you back or at least persuade him to let you go to Heaven. I sent Cas to Hell four times, the last time I almost lost him, too. I even tried to just walk in and get you out myself. When I finally realized that there was no use trying to get you back, I fell apart.”

Dean's voice is quiet now. He puts his fork down and sighs again. _It must be hard for him to talk about this. After all, he has never been good with feelings or at least not with talking about them..._

“I didn't eat unless Sam forced me to, I didn't hunt unless Sam dragged me to the car and drove us all the way, I spoke only when necessary and I mainly lived off of alcohol. When you told us who you were, when this black-eyed monster that had just killed an innocent man claimed that she was you I wanted to kill you – her. Just put an angel blade through your heart and be done with it. Sam convinced me to give you a chance. I didn't want to. I knew that if it really was you, then we could easily cure you and get back to our old lives. But I wasn't even sure if I wanted to get back.”

Finally, he looks up, looks at her. His expression is hurt and sad. She shifts uncomfortably on her chair. “I wasn't sure if I still wanted you, new body, memories of Hell and your life as a demon. But once again my brother convinced me to hear you out and then finally to cure you. I believed you when you told us your story but I was scared. Scared that things would change, that I couldn't love you anymore. It's been almost three years, (Y/N). I have changed. And you have, too. I am not the man I was when you left me behind.”

“I didn't -”

But he interrupts her by holding up his hand.

“You did. I know why you did it, you needed to get out of the Bunker and maybe it wasn't right to keep you on lock-down. But nevertheless you left me behind, you deliberately took the risk of getting yourself killed on your little adventure. (Y/N), I don't blame you. I would have probably snapped way earlier if I were you. But that's no excuse, you still abandoned me, just like I abandoned you, days before you died. I want to apologize for that. And for not believing you and for ignoring you. To be real honest, I don't know where to go from here. I don't know if I still love you and I don't know if it can ever be the same again. I tried to figure it out last week but I couldn't. All I ask is for you to give me a little more time to sort my feelings out. Please.”

She can feel tears stinging in her eyes as she nods. “Okay.” She doesn't want to say more in case her voice betrays her. “I...” She makes a vague gesture towards the door and gets up, leaving Dean and her breakfast behind.

–

She reaches her room just in time. She doesn't bother locking the door behind her before she falls onto the bed and buries her head in her pillow. Her body is shaken by loud sobs, only muffled by the pillow that is slowly getting wet from her tears. She doesn't know why she's crying. The first few months in Hell she thought about Dean a lot, wishing, hoping he would come get her. She screamed his name over and over again until the demons made her shut up. But with time her emotions faded and so did her desire to go back.

When she was fully changed she didn't waste much thought on either of the Winchesters. They were hunters, enemies. Dangerous enemies. She didn't miss them, not ever, and whenever a memory of her time with them would pop up she would push it aside, quickly thinking of something else. But that day only a week ago, when she saw Sam and heard Dean's voice for the first time in over two years, something immediately stirred inside her. It wasn't exactly a memory, more of a vague feeling. And from that moment on she couldn't push the thoughts aside anymore. She loves Dean, she always has.

Now she is lying on her bed, shaking, sobbing, crying. She still loves Dean, probably more than ever. And he has just rebuffed her. Sure, he wants time, she gets that. But it still hurts. He doesn't trust her, doesn't like her new body. He's probably disgusted by her. By what she has done. And she can't blame him. She is disgusted herself! Repulsed by her behavior, her memories, her actions. But she has hoped that at least Dean would see the good in her, like he always has. _Maybe_ , she thinks, _maybe there is just nothing good left in me? Maybe that's why he hates me, because he_ wants _to see the good but there's nothing there?_

She barely hears the knock on the door. She doesn't want to see anyone, doesn't want to speak to anyone. When the door opens she hopes it's not Dean.

“(Y/N)?” It's Sam. He hesitates for a moment, then enters her room, closes the door and sits down next to her. “What happened?”

She doesn't answer, only presses her head into the pillow. She hopes Sam will leave when she ignores him. She flinches when he puts his hand on her shoulder but other than that she doesn't move, tries to calm down, tries to stop sobbing.

Sam sits there for a full minute with his hand on her shoulder. When she doesn't move, doesn't reply, he sighs and says: “Alright. I'll be in the War Room if you want to talk. Dean's out, getting some stuff. We're heading out for another hunt as soon as I find something. If you wanna come, you should better pack some stuff.” With these words he stands up and leaves, not bothering to close the door behind him.

She lies on her bed for another five minutes before she gets up and drags herself to the bathroom. She needs to be strong, she tells herself, prove Dean that he can trust her. Maybe he'll change his mind.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! :)


	7. Truce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for all the lovely comments! :)

She likes Blue Öyster Cult. She really does. But if she has to listen to _'Fire of Unknown Origin'_ one more time she will jump out of the window. Sam seems to have the same thought.

“Dude, can we listen to something else please? I don't care what it is, as long as it's something other than this.”

“You don't like the song?”

“Believe me, I do. But I know every word and can probably sing it backwards by now! We've listened to this shit on loop for the past _two hours!_ ”

“Alright, alright,” Dean mutters with a glance to the backseat where she's trying not to look like she wants to murder someone. “What do you wanna hear?”

“Anything. As long as it's not that!”

Dean shrugs and points to the glove compartment. “Choose something you like.”

They've been driving for roughly six hours by now, listening to Led Zeppelin for three hours, then to the radio for one before taking a break to fill Baby up and have something to eat. After that it's been _'Fire of Unknown Origin'_ and only that.

Two days have passed since Dean told her he needs time. She's coping (barely) because she knows he has his reasons (though she hopes he'll change his mind soon). Now she's sitting in the backseat of the Impala, just like old times. Except that she has not spoken to Dean apart from a few meaningless words. In the past they have always been bantering, flirting, making fun of Sam. Or at least discussing the case.

Sam woke her up with the announcement that “people are going missing in California” and told her he thinks he's “onto something”. He doesn't know what it is that's taking people – underage couples mostly – but he's pretty sure it's a case. He had also told her that Dean wants her to come with them “if she's alright with that” and so she has agreed and packed her bags.

“You sure these kids aren't just runaways?” Dean asks over the sound of at least five drum sets coming out of the speakers. Sam turns down the volume.

“Yeah. It's been happening for quite a while now and not all of them are children.”

“Werewolves?” she suggests from the backseat.

“Nah, not the right time. Vamps? Demons? Dragons? A spirit? Or just your usual criminal? Could be anything if you ask me.” Dean turns up the volume again.

“Well, we'll see.” That's the last bit of conversation for another hour.

–

“Where exactly are we going anyway?”

It's the afternoon and they've stopped to get more gas and some snacks.

“Tulelake. North California. Very small town, only about a thousand residents.” Sam frowns at the refrigerated sandwiches in front of him.

“Ever been there?” She pushes past him, takes a few and puts them into the shopping cart, next to some chips, chocolate bars and beer.

“No, at least not that I can remember. You?”

“No, never heard of it. How long till we get there?”

Sam looks at his phone. “Depends. Google maps says another seventeen hours. So we'll probably drive till midnight and then find a motel and do the rest tomorrow.”

She swallows. A motel. She isn't prepared for this. It's obvious that they're not able to do the drive in one day and they will have to stay somewhere while in Tulelake. But she hasn't really thought about it. Sleeping in the same room as Dean? They had always shared a bed but she guesses she'll have to stay on the couch from now on.

–

Sam drives all evening and at around eleven they find a motel. She takes the couch (which is surprisingly comfortable) and the boys accept it without any comment.

In the morning they have a quick breakfast and then continue their drive, accompanied by AC/DC. She misses driving but she doesn't dare to ask Dean to switch. Apart from the music they drive in complete silence until midday when they have lunch. Then it's Sam's turn to drive again but they're still listening to Dean's music.

–

It's early evening when they arrive in Tulelake. There is only one motel that has a vacancy. It's affordable, though Dean says he hopes they don't have to stay for too long. After she's seen the room she hopes that, too.

It's dirty and it stinks. Mold stains the bathroom walls and the shower curtain is yellow-ish and see-through. The plaster is peeling off the walls. There are only two beds, both narrow and with stained sheets, and no couch. The carpet looks like mice chew on it every night and the table, as well as the two wooden chairs, are half-eaten by woodworms.

“Nice,” Sam comments and throws his duffle on one of the beds.

She wrinkles her nose. “Yeah, lovely.”

“We only have two beds.” Her heart skips a few beats and her throat turns dry. Right. The bed situation. She almost forgot.

“Doesn't matter, Dean and I can share.”

Dean frowns. “Dude, have you seen how narrow the beds are?”

“Fine. Then one has to sleep on the floor. And we can switch every night.”

She doesn't want to come across like a prickly little bitch but she can't help it. “I'm not sleeping on that floor!”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Alright.” He sounds more than annoyed. “We push the beds together – provided that they won't fall apart doing so – and share.”

Dean simply nods, throws his duffle to the ground and walks into the bathroom. “The lock doesn't work!” he cries out from inside.

“Brilliant,” Sam huffs and looks at her. “Can you give me a hand?”

The beds don't break as they slowly push them over the floor until they stand as close as possible in the middle of the room. They make barely a Queen sized one.

–

She can't sleep. Her watch tells her it's half past two in the morning. There is not much space for her on the bed. Sam is snoring loudly into her right ear and he keeps stealing the covers. Dean is on the other side of the bed, not making any sound, not even moving.

They have started investigating, have already questioned a couple of people, including the Sheriff and the parents of two runaways. The children have all disappeared during the night, most of them from the same spot, an old bridge a little outside of town and a popular meeting point amongst teenagers. There have been no signs of struggle, no car tracks, no traces, no nothing. They have barely anything to go on.

Sam stops snoring for a second. He mumbles something in his sleep, then turns, almost knocking her off the bed.

“What did I do to deserve this...?” She grunts, closing her eyes and desperately tries to fall asleep. There is another sound, barely audible over Sam's re-started snoring. The sound of sheets being moved, the bed squeaking, silent footsteps. The door makes an ear-deafening sound in the quiet room, then everything is still again. She opens her eyes and sits up. Sam is still sleeping, all available blankets clutched to his chest, but Dean's side of the bed is empty. She looks to the window, sees a dark figure next to Baby. Seconds later the engine is turned on and the Impala leaves the motel parking lot.

–

She must have fallen asleep eventually because when she opens her eyes it's day. The sun is shining through the dirty window, illuminating the room and making her see way more of it than she wants. She is alone in the room but there are noises of running water coming from the bathroom and the Impala is parked in front of the window again.

The bathroom door opens and Dean steps out. “Morning,” he says, making her heart hurt because he leaves out the “sweetheart”-part of their greeting.

She nods. “Good morning, Dean. Where's your brother?”

“Getting coffee.” Dean drops the towel and reveals that he is only wearing his boxers. She swallows hard.

“Great.”

“The bathroom is fucking filthy. The water smells like rotten eggs.”

“This entire room is a mess.”

“Well, it's the only thing that's available and I really don't want us all to squeeze into the car to sleep.”

“Is that the reason why you were out tonight?” She regrets the question as soon as she's asked it. They've had a perfectly normal conversation and now she's bringing _this_ up. _Great. Now he must think I'm spying on him._

Dean narrows his eyes. “No. I just couldn't sleep and went for a drive to listen to some music.”

“Right. Okay. Sorry. Didn't mean to... I couldn't sleep either, that's why I noticed.”

“It's hard to sleep when Sammy's stealing the covers and tries to kick you off the bed, right?” He pulls a shirt over his head. She lets out a breath she hasn't noticed she's been holding.

“Yeah.” She chuckles. Then she adds: “You never stole the covers.”

In that moment the door opens and Sam walks in, balancing three cups of coffee and a two paper bags in his arms. “Oh, morning (Y/N). Did you have a good night?”

“I would've if _someone_ hadn't woken me up by kicking me in the shins every five minutes. Also I was cold.”

Sam looks less remorseful than he should in her opinion. “Are you ready? I'd prefer having breakfast at a place where it's at least semi-clean.”

–

After a quick breakfast in the parking lot, much to Dean's chagrin using Baby as a table, they are off to interview more people. Dean drops Sam and her off and drives back to the police station. They meet again for lunch at a small restaurant – vegan, Dean is mortified – to exchange information.

“So, all vics have vanished at night, ten of them were last seen on that bridge, three in a supermarket parking lot and one left her house, went to her car and drove off to meet her boyfriend at his house. She never arrived.” Dean looks down at his notes for a moment before he continues.

“Aside from mentioned girlfriend everyone was underage, the three teenagers in the parking lot were the only singles. The police hasn't found anything, neither at the bridge nor the parking lot and the girl's car has never been found either. So far nobody has demanded a ransom and none of the vics have received any threats prior to disappearing.

It all started two months ago with the young woman...” Dean looks at his notes again, “Allie Bishop, twenty-seven and a teacher at the local primary school. That's the one that was driving to her boyfriend's house. Since then thirteen people have vanished. The police doesn't have any leads. The only thing they can do is warn people not to leave their house at night.” He takes a bite out of his vegan burger and makes a face.

“We pretty much got the same. A few people mentioned that the kids were a little...well, weird in the days before they disappeared.”

“Weird?” Dean takes a sip from his vegan lemonade (“They don't even serve beer in this shitty restaurant!”)

“Yeah, they didn't reply to texts, spent most of the time either locked in their rooms or somewhere outside of home and didn't go to classes anymore,” she explains and bites into her own burger. It doesn't taste as bad as Dean has made it seem but she would still prefer something else. “The bridge is a popular meeting point and most of the kids were there before they've been taken. Or ran away, who knows. Their friends have mentioned seeing them walking into the woods. But they were all couples, so no one really thought anything of it.”

“What do you say, should we check the bridge out?”

“Yeah, let's go.” Dean pushes his plate aside and stands up. “And let's get some real food on the way there.”

Sam rolls his eyes, drops the fork onto his half-empty salad plate and they all leave the restaurant.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I've never been to Tulelake (I just looked for a random city that was quite small) and I based the motel on one I was staying in when I was in Arizona. I also have no idea about restaurants or bridges, I didn't research the city or the area around it.


	8. Redemption

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more chapters to go! This one is a little bit longer. Let me know if you liked it! :)

 

**!!!! Warning: injuries, violence, blood !!!!**

* * *

 

The bridge looks ordinary, just a few stones piled on top of each other. Empty cups, broken bottles and lots and lots of cigarette stubs and bits of paper are scattered around in the grass on each side of the small creek flowing underneath the old bridge. It just looks like a normal gathering point for bored teenagers in a small town like Tulelake.

“No EMF, no sulfur, no ectoplasm, no cold spots, absolutely nothing. Nada. Niente.” Dean looks frustrated.

“Could still be a vamp or something. Or the children just ran away...”

“Alright, but the strange behavior?” Dean kicks a pebble. It skips over the water four times before sinking. She smiles.

“Demonic possession?” Sam suggests.

“No sulfur!” Dean kicks another stone but this time it hits the bridge, bounces off and lands in the grass.

“Wait, they all went into the woods, maybe it just happened there. And not on the bridge.” The brothers look at her, then at each other and nod in agreement.

The 'woods' turn out to be nothing more than about 200 square meters of trees huddled together. When they reach the last few they are looking at a small meadow with a couple of tombstones.

“Wow, these kids really have a great meeting spot! It's right next to a graveyard!” She tries to sound sarcastic but it comes out more annoyed.

“So...what are we dealing with? Vengeful spirit? Zombie?”

“How about a ghoul?” Sam points to a small stone building to their left. “Looks like a crypt. A perfect hiding place for ghouls.”

Dean groans. “I'm not in the mood for ghouls!”

She smirks. “I'm pretty sure the ghouls are also not in the mood for hunters.”

“Let's just get it over with. Do you have your guns?” Sam asks, his own already in hand.

–

It's dark inside the crypt. An awful smell lingers inside the old building. It reminds her of rotten eggs, public restrooms and death. Dean pulls a flashlight out of his bag. There are spiderwebs everywhere. The thick layer of dust is only gone on one of the coffins.

“You think they're here?” She asks in a low voice.

“Probably not. I'm guessing they've just eaten their newest vics and are now running around town looking like their latest food.” Dean sounds like he is desperately trying not to breathe in the horrible smell.

“We should still check.” Sam slowly approaches the coffin and takes off the heavy lid. The smell intensifies.

“Oh god,” she mumbles, holding her breath. She is starting to feel sick. “This is the worst!”

“I'm so glad I didn't finish that burger.” Dean hands Sam the flashlight and they all look down into the smelling coffin. The original inhabitant has been removed and there is a small hole, barely big enough for a man to fit through.

“Well, I suppose we found the nest. Now we only need to find the ghouls.”

“I'll go down and check,” Sam says, looking like someone about to make the biggest sacrifice of his life. He hands the flashlight back to Dean and climbs into the coffin. Then he slowly puts his feet into the hole and slides down. “Flashlight!” he whispers. Dean passes him the lamp and then they're in complete darkness.

“How many do you think there are of them?”

Dean shrugs, even though she can barely see him. “I'm guessing two, considering that there were mostly couples that disappeared. But there could be more.”

Sam's hand with the flashlight appears in the hole again and they quickly help him out. He doesn't say anything, just closes the coffin and points towards the door.

The fresh air that fills her lungs feels like heaven. They all stand in silence for a few minutes, breathing. Then Sam reports: “There are no ghouls down there but judging by the...remains, all the missing teenagers are.”

“Argh, that's gross!”

“You can talk! At least you didn't have to see them!”

“Well, you kinda jumped into that hole before anyone could even say anything! I guess that counts as volunteering?”

“Guys, stop! It's getting dark and I really don't wanna be surprised by the ghouls, unprepared as we are!”

The brothers look at her for a moment, then they simultaneously turn around and start walking back to the car. She rolls her eyes and follows them.

–

“So, what do we do now?” Sam asks.

“Find the ghouls and chop their heads off.”

“Thanks for the input, Dean.”

They're back in their dirty motel room, drinking beer and eating sandwiches. The brothers are in a strange mood, exchanging passive aggressive comments on the drive back and not stopping now. She is used to this kind of banter, it happens when they're together for too long but unlike a few years ago, she doesn't take any sides.

“We need to find the people that are behaving differently than usual, which probably sounds easier than it actually is. I suggest we try the schools first, seeing as most of the vics were underage.”

Dean looks at her for a few seconds, then smiles. “(Y/N) is right. The local High School sounds like a good start.”

She can't help but smile back at him. He has agreed with her!

Sam leans back and bites into his sandwich. “Alright, most of the kids will probably recognize us, so no new aliases and no going undercover as substitute teachers.”

“Right. But why would the FBI show up at a school?” Dean points out. He is still the best-looking man she has ever seen. She can't understand how she has managed to live so long without ever thinking about him.

The flickering light bulb on the ceiling makes him look paler than he actually is. He has recovered a lot since she came back to them but he's still too skinny and pale. But at least he eats again and he seems to get his average five hours of sleep every night, which can truly be considered a beauty sleep. The bags under his eyes are gone and sometimes when he laughs his eyes look like they used to, two sparkling emeralds in a sun-tanned face with freckles and dimples and -

“(Y/N)?” A hand is blocking off her view.

She blinks a few times. “Huh?”

“Are you still with us?”

“Hm...what?”

Sam chuckles. “Look, I'm sure you like staring at Dean – and drooling” – she quickly wipes her chin with her sleeve – “but, uh...we're kinda discussing something important here.”

“Sorry.” She looks to the floor, embarrassed.

Somebosy laughs. It's a warm laugh, a laugh she knows and loves. Dean's. “Alright, let's get back to the case before (Y/N) drowns in a puddle of her own drool.”

It doesn't bother her that they're making fun of her and she deliberately ignores Sam's witty comment. She doesn't know what it is but for some reason Dean seems to accept her a little more now.

–

She is determined to keep Dean in a good mood without fawning too much. She is very careful about what she says, occasionally making a sarcastic comment towards her ex(?)-boyfriend but mainly taking his side in arguments. It's not difficult for her because she agrees with him anyway, it's just about expressing her support.

Trying to find the ghouls is tiring. Over the course of the next five days they interview half the town, starting with the High School students and their teachers. At night they sleep in their crappy motel room, although sleeping gets difficult when the air con breaks in the third night. They find another restaurant that sells “real” burgers and, much to Sam's delight, also a wide range of healthier food. Dean gets the waitress' number one evening but throws away the note as soon as they leave. And the woman was hot.

Sam still sleeps in between them. He is the only one who actually sleeps. And snores. And kicks. And steals the blankets. (Not that they want the blankets with a broken air con. It's just a matter of principle.) Dean and she don't talk during the nights, even though they're both awake, but it's not an uncomfortable silence. Usually Dean falls asleep after a few hours and as soon as she hears his even breathing she falls asleep, too.

He seems to become more and more relaxed around her, talks to her, not only about the case but about other, random stuff as well. They go to investigate together while Sam talks to a group of students on his own. Still, it's not like it used to be and she can't escape the feeling that he doesn't fully trust her. _It's only a matter of time_ , she tells herself. _Give him time, he'll be alright eventually._

–

Then they have a lead. On the seventh day in Tulelake they find out who the ghouls are. They are currently posing as another couple, two sixteen-year-olds. Sam overheard them talking about “going back home to get some more food tonight” and about it being “time to lure somebody to the graveyard”. She can't wait to finally leave the crappy motel and to be back in her own room at the Bunker. But first they need to kill those sons of bitches. The brothers agree that it'll be best to wait for them in their nest and to attack them there. She isn't too fond of the idea of spending an entire night in the smelling crypt but she doesn't want to stay behind either. 

They are all set at half six, guns ready, machetes at their sides. She is crouched in a corner next to a dusty coffin, staring at the door. Dean is on the other side of the door, also sitting behind a coffin, ready to jump up and fight. Sam has the worst spot, right behind the coffin with the entrance to the ghouls' nest, but he doesn't complain, just holds his breath. A small streak of light falls through the door. She can see the dust floating through the air. A big black spider, its body the size of a walnut, sits right above the door, another one waits in her web, just a few feet from Dean.

Hours pass. They don't speak. The light dims until eventually it fades completely. They sit in darkness. She can barely see her own hands, let alone Sam or Dean. Or the spiders for that matter.

It's hard to breathe. The air feels thick, like it's not really air but water or some kind of goo. Every breath she takes is filled with dust, making her throat itch with the need to cough. The smell is terrible. She feels like it's getting worse until the point where makes her want to throw up. Her eyes are dry and itchy. Her feet and her back hurt from cowering in the same position for so long.

She tries to check the time on her phone but she can't reach it.

“Half past eleven,” Sam mumbles when he sees her struggle. His voice is hoarse and low.

Despite the uncomfortable circumstances she almost falls asleep. In a daze she watches the door. Another thin streak of light has appeared, undoubtedly the moon.

She thinks about Dean. She understands that he needs time, that he can't trust her at the moment. It's a miracle he hasn't killed her or at least sent her away. She has no idea how she would have reacted if the situation had been reversed; if  _he_ had abandoned  _her_ and come back as a demon almost three years later. She can't imagine how he must have felt but from what she has heard, he's done badly. Alcohol, way more than usual, no food, no hunting, no nothing. But now he's doing better; it seems like he's slowly getting back to normal. She promises herself not to leave him ever again. She knows he couldn't bear losing her another time and neither could she bear losing him.

That's when she hears it. Footsteps, coming from outside the crypt. At least two different sets. _What if,_ flashes through her mind, _there are more than two? More than three? They will overpower us. We're insane to come here and corner ourselves like this! Fourteen people in two months, that's a lot for just two ghouls! We should have -_

But she doesn't have time to finish that thought before the door suddenly opens and a tall figure steps in. There are more heavy footsteps on the grass, she can now definitely make out three distinctive pairs. The ghoul, now in human form, walks in and towards the coffin hiding the entrance to the nest.  _The Sheriff!_ she realizes.  _So definitely more than two._

Sam leaps up from behind the coffin and smacks the ghoul over the head with his gun. The creature makes a loud grunting sound, then attacks the hunter. Dean jumps up as well and fires, hitting the ghoul in the head four times before it collapses on the floor.

She staggers to her feet when two more ghouls enter the crypt –  _ Not the couple, that means at least five ghouls!  _ – and shoots at the first one but misses the head. The monster turns around, growling furiously. Shooting again she sees another two people entering the small room out of the corner of her eye.  _ We're outnumbered _ , she thinks and shoots but the ghoul is faster. It grabs her by the shoulders and smashes her against a wall. Her head hits the stone and she sees stars. She has lost the gun but her hand is still clutching the machete, so she raises it and tries to get to the monster's throat. It's a girl, she sees, only in her early teenage years. Well, actually, it's the ghoul who has  _ eaten _ the girl. It strangely reminds her of her sister. To ghoul has its hands on her throat now and pushes.

“Filthy little hunters! That's very bad of you to break in here, very inappropriate.” The ghoul speaks with the little girl's voice which makes things worse.

“Get off me!” she growls but the ghoul only laughs. Then the laughing turns into a burble and blood spills onto her. The ghoul's grip on her loosens and the head and the body fall to the floor separately.

“You okay?” Dean shouts but doesn't give her time to respond. She gasps for air and quickly picks up machete and gun before jumping back into battle.

Two ghouls – it's the couple that led them there in the first place – have cornered Sam but he still has his weapons and shoots one in the head. Dean is fighting with his bare hands, machete and gun lying a couple of feet away on the floor. She leaps over to the ghoul and attacks it, pulling it off of Dean, who is lying on one of the coffins, punching, kicking. 

The ghoul grunts and turns towards her. She shoots but misses again. She hasn't had a lot of fighting practice in the last two years; her victims were usually chained to a chair or the wall, unable to fight back.  _ Horrible! I was horrible! _

The gun is kicked out of her hand and she feels her wrist break at the impact of the ghoul's foot. She raises the machete, ready to behead the monster when she hears a loud cry from Sam.

“(Y/N), watch out! Behind you!” But it's too late. A sixth ghoul has entered the crypt and she has trembled backwards right into its arms. It doesn't take the creature long to realize that she's not a friend. It grabs her and throws her against the wall. The machete drops onto the floor. 

She feels bones breaking as the air escapes her lungs. Then there is something sharp on her shoulder, on her belly and on her wrists. Blood is leaving her body. She's flying again, landing on a flat surface. She tries to breathe but there is no air. She can't see. Muffled screams pierce her ears. Something heavy is on top of her. Then, finally, she manages to suck in some air. It's cold and fresh. She must be lying outside on the grass.

She wants to get up but the thing on her body pushes her down. There are no sounds, she realizes. She tries to open her eyes again. It's dark but she can see blurry grass in front of her.  _ Dean _ , she thinks,  _ Sam. They need me. _ She wants to scream but she can't open her mouth. Her body feels numb. Blood slowly drops down her face, her arms, her sides. For a second she is on that road again with the hellhound on her chest, ripping her apart.

Then suddenly the heavy weight is lifted from her and she can hear voices. Someone touches her cheek.

“(Y/N)? Please, oh please no!”

“(Y/N)?” A different voice. “Can you hear me? Please say something!”

She tries but she can't.

“Sweetheart, it's going to be okay. We'll fix you.”

Fix her? But she is not broken! Everything is fine! They should all get up and fight the ghouls, what are they even doing outside?

Then the pain comes back. Without any warning it rushes through her body, washing away the numbness. She is now very aware of her surroundings and of her body. She screams, tries to at least. It sounds more like a cough. Blood. Blood everywhere. Her arms hurt like hell and she can only feel her right leg. Every breath sends a sharp pain through her chest. She feels sick. Her head is spinning. It's cold. Her skin is exposed, her flesh is, too.

“Baby, it's alright.” Dean's voice is shaking. “I'm right here, we're gonna get through this.”

But it hurts, it hurts so much. She's not going to make it. It hurts more than the hellhound, more like torture in Hell.

“D-ean,” she whispers, opening her eyes and trying to focus on him. His face is only inches away but he keeps getting blurry.

“(Y/N), it's okay, just keep still, we'll get you out of here.”

“G-ghouls?” she asks.

“They're all dead, sweetheart. Shh, it's okay.”

She feels his hands on her arm and her cheek. He's kneeling close to her, she can feel his warmth.

“D-ean,” she tries again. She must say it now before it's too late. She won't be able to hold on for much longer. It costs all her willpower to stay awake, so she closes her eyes and mumbles: “D-ean, I l-lo-ve y-you.” Then she blacks out.

 

 


	9. Salvation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry that this is late (due to personal reasons), especially after the cliffhanger.

When she wakes up the pain is still there. It's completely different from her first death. She's not chained up this time, she's not even standing up. She is...lying somewhere. Somewhere soft and comfortable. There is a blanket on top of her. The floor is shaking slightly. She is still in pain and she feels dizzy and sick. It's hot and she's sweating. She must be back in Hell. But why is she lying down?

She groans. It's too hot and everything hurts. She tries to push the blanket off of her and opens her eyes. There is a ceiling, two or three feet from her eyes.

“(Y/N)? Sam, she's awake, stop the car. Hello, sweetheart.” A quiet voice speaks, not too far away.

The shaking stops and a blurry face comes into view. It takes her a few seconds to focus. She knows that face. It belongs to her boyfriend, Dean. But what is he doing here? Did he die as well?

“D-,” she starts but she can't talk. Her mouth is dry, breathing hurts, her head is spinning.

“Shh, don't talk. It's okay. You're safe. Just hold on. We patched you up and we're on the way home. Cas is coming our way, we'll meet him in a few hours, so he can heal you.”

Too much information to process. Heal her? Patching up? Cas? But does that mean... “A-a-live?” she manages to cough. Talking hurts. Her lungs are on fire and her throat feels like it's being tormented with sandpaper.

“Yes, baby, of course you are alive!” Dean's eyes look weird – wet? Are those tears? It's hard to keep his face in focus.

“W-w-” But he interrupts her again.

“It's okay. I'm here. Sleep. It will be alright.”

Those are the last words she hears before her eyes fall shut and she drifts off once more.

–

The next time she wakes up is a blur. She is still in the car. People are talking. Her body hurts. It's hot and she is thirsty. She sees another face but before she can recognize it she faints again.

–

Something has changed. The first thing she notices is that she can't be in the car anymore. She lies on a soft surface, her head a little higher than the rest of her body – on a pillow? A warm and heavy blanket is draped around her. Her eyes are closed and no light comes through the lids. She hears no sound aside from her own breathing. She can feel her heartbeat, calm and steady. The air smells familiar, a mixture between old furniture, a dusty air con, leather and beer. Home. She is back in the Bunker. A familiar aftershave. Dean's room?

Her head has stopped spinning, though it feels heavy. Her limbs are all in their usual places and none of them feel broken. She moves her fingers. The sheets make a rustling sound. She can move her hands, her feet, even bend her elbows and knees. She doesn't feel any pain, only a faint aching. Is she dead? For real this time? Is this Heaven? Is her Heaven Dean's room in the Bunker?

She opens her eyes. It's dark in the room but she recognizes it nevertheless. It's Dean's. She sits up very slowly. Her head doesn't protest. She reaches up and touches it. No bandages. None on her arms, legs or torso either.

She looks around. There is a glass filled with water on the nightstand. She reaches out, takes it and drinks. It does definitely  _ feel _ heavenly. She puts the glass back and coughs. Her eyelids start flickering. Fatigue overcomes her and she slowly sinks back onto the bed and falls asleep again.

–

She opens her eyes and yawns. It takes her a few seconds to realize where she is and another few until she remembers what happened.

The door opens and someone enters the room.

“Hey, you're awake!” Dean sits down on the bed and places a tray on the nightstand. “How are you feeling?”

“G-good.” Her throat is sore and she quickly pushes herself up on her elbows and drinks some more water. “Good, I guess.”

A big smile appears on Dean's face and without warning he pulls her into a bone-breaking hug. “I'm so glad you're okay, baby! I thought we'd lost you after the ghoul attacked you but then you woke up and we immediately called Cas and he met us half-way to the Bunker and he healed you and said you'd need a lot of sleep but you'll be fine. That was a week ago. We drove back here and put you into bed but you didn't wake up and Cas looked after you every day and said you'd be alright but I couldn't believe him because you wouldn't wake up but now you are and -”

“Dean,” she chuckles, although slightly concerned for her boyfriend. “It's okay, I'm here. I'm okay, just a little tired. And hungry.”

He finally lets her go and quickly rubs his eyes. Then he smiles at her and points to the tray. It is filled with more food than she could ever eat but she is grateful for it and starts eating. Dean stays with her, sitting next to her and smiling while he tells her everything that has happened.

Apparently the last ghoul came back a little late and when it saw the hunters it attacked. She was basically thrown against it and then the ghouls dragged her outside and crashed her against the wall a couple of times before beating her up even more. Dean killed the ghoul attacking him and then ran outside and shot the other repeatedly in the head until it collapsed on her. They thought she was dead but when she stirred they patched her up and drove back home, meeting Cas on the way to heal her.

When Dean is finished talking he just watches her eat. After she has eaten as much as she can, he puts the tray away and she lies back down.

“Dean, I'm tired.”

“I know. Cas said you would be. It's okay, you should sleep. I'm waiting here if you want.”

“I...Dean, have you...have you decided yet?” She knows it's ridiculous to ask this question now when she's still not fully-recovered and already half-asleep but she needs to know.

“Decided what?”

“Whether you...can do...” She thinks for a moment, then says: “This. With us, I mean. What's with us?”

“Oh, (Y/N)!” Dean gently pushes a strand of hair out of her face. “Yes. Yes, I can. I want to. Baby, I love you! And I don't know how I could be so blind before! You are still the same person, different body or not! I don't care that you were a demon. I don't care what you did. I almost lost you last week and that made me realize that I can't _ever_ lose you again. I would break. So yes, I still want you. As long as you want me?” For a second he seems insecure.

“Of course, Dean!” She smiles. “I love you.” She has always loved him, she realizes, even when she was a demon or the sight of him wouldn't have changed something inside her. Not being sure how things would go on has been hard and she doesn't know what she would have done if he had told her he didn't want her, that he couldn't do this anymore.

He smiles back. “(Y/N) Winchester, I am so happy to have you.” He leans forward and places a gentle kiss on her forehead. She closes her eyes. “Sleep well. I'll stay. I love you.”

With her hand in Dean's, his body and warmth so close to her it only takes seconds to fall asleep, a small smile on her face. And with the knowledge that she is free and safe and loved, she has the most pleasant and refreshing sleep and the sweetest dreams in over a decade.

_Sleep well._

_I'll stay._

_I love you._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s it. (The original ending involved her dying btw^^) I hope everyone enjoyed this story. Thank you guys so much for all the kudos and comments. I really enjoyed writing a chaptered story again :3
> 
> There will be a one-shot coming out some time this week. It’s from Dean’s POV and takes place between chapters 8 and 9.


End file.
